and lachesis considered
by rinzukodas
Summary: in another universe, it's not her that he picks. [mentioned chrom/sumia]
1. Chapter 1

Robin looks the calmest and the most settled out of anyone in the camp three days after they learn the truth from their commander. Chrom does not quite notice between quelling fights and keeping morale up as they make their preparations for the battle he knows in his bones will end this chapter of history; he is absentmindedly grateful for it as they go over strategy in the war room with Sumia's periodical reports and pies filtering in through the haze of planning down to the smallest eventualities.

"Mother!" It is Morgan's voice, sharp and raised and upset. Chrom pauses before he passes the tent. What could possibly get Morgan (of all people) into an argument- much less with his mother?

"Oh, Morgan," says Robin, and he recognizes the tone. It is the cadence she unconsciously uses when she sets out to sway the minds of princes: beguiling in its logic, impossibly understanding in its softness. "My dear. You know why."

"That doesn't make it _right!"_ There is the sound of heavy boots on hard-packed ground; Morgan's pacing fills the air with a steady thrum that can only be angry in nature.

"What is one life before the winds of eternity? If there were any other path to a happy future... gods. You _know_ , Morgan, that I would take it. I don't want to do this-"

"-but you _do,"_ Morgan says, voice hitching, at the same time as a familiar voice lashes out- "-But you will for _him,_ Mother!"

There is utter silence. Chrom does not breathe, realizing only now that the pacing had not been Morgan's at all.

Lucina has just called Robin _mother._

"...Robin, you mean," says his tactician delicately.

"I do _not,"_ Lucina says sharply. There is the sound of ruffling cloth, and then a muted gasp. "There, you see it? I thought it prudent to conceal it, considering that you and Father do not appear to be-"

"-Lucina!" Robin _pleads._ Robin never pleads. She cajoles, she subtly directs, she hints- she does not reveal such weakness to the world. To anyone.

"No, Mother," Morgan lets out at last. "We can't let you stay blind any longer."

More ruffling.

"...I... Naga..."

"Well, it is her Mark," says the boy, only a hint of humor tracing into the statement.

" _Morgan,"_ Lucina reprimands her... her _brother?_

Oh, gods.

"...this is all so much to take in."

"You didn't account for this possibility, did you?"

"No... I hadn't. I'm beginning to think it was an error on my part."

"How could you have known?" Morgan asks. It's like the anger has seeped out of him. Chrom can almost hear him deflate.

"I should have at least suspected. You have his eyes, Morgan, his nose. You set your jaw the same way when you're concentrating. Lucina, you have my face- and my hair, if I'm not mistaken. You walk like I do. Oh, gods," the unintentional echo almost makes him want to laugh, "Morgan- Lucina- he _can't_ know."

The cornucopia of hurt, confusion, and anger that springs up at that surprises him in its intensity. He puts a hand to his mouth, pretending that the sharp prick in the corners of his eyes are just from having looked up into the sun.

Never mind that it's the dead of night. The sun has been beating down on them the past few days.

Really.

"He and Sumia- they're happily married, with a little Lucina all their own," Robin continues quietly, when there is expectant silence. "...And there's always been talk, about he and I. I know Sumia has always worried despite herself. Especially because I have nobody."

When there is continued silence, she sighs a little and speaks in a voice that is terribly, terribly tired. "Lucina, Morgan, say you discover one day- forgetting about the time travel- that your commander has two children running around that look an awful lot like his or her best friend... except the commander isn't married to their best friend, but instead, another man or woman. What is that going to look like to you?"

"...You're not wrong." Morgan is the one to concede grudgingly. "But that doesn't mean we've got to like it."

"I never said I liked it either," his tactician notes, and some of the hurt ebbs away. Not all of it, though. Chrom won't soon forget that her immediate thought was to keep the truth from him. "If it were only up to us, no politics to consider or a position of authority to maintain, I would want to tell him immediately- with the _two_ of you, Lucina. Yes, I know. Don't look so surprised. I had to notice _something,_ after all... not very befitting of a tactician to be unobservant. You oughtn't, by the way. You've made too many people care about you."

"Have you ever considered yourself in all of this?" Lucina's somber voice slices through the facade Robin is building around herself neatly, cleanly, and lethally, just like she moves in battle.

There is another long silence. "No," Robin says eventually. "Until recently, there was no need for it."

"Recently?" Morgan.

"Until I learned about Grima."

"...Which brings us back to the point, Mother: _you shouldn't do it."_ Lucina. Her rhetoric when angry is scarily reminiscent of Robin's. How has he not noticed that before?

"Lucina, there's no other choice. Not truly. Not if we want to end this cycle of pain and suffering. Can't you see it? Can't anyone? One life for a _universe._ One life for the world's future. One life and humanity lives on. One life..." her voice grows so soft, so choked he has to strain to hear it, "...and he will not die, and neither of you will suffer, and all of our friends will have the opportunity to live to a ripe old age."

"I _will_ suffer if you die!" their daughter bursts out, fire and fury and Chrom in a temper, and collapses into tears. It sets Morgan off, and soon enough Robin has two bitterly weeping teens bundled in her arms.

He draws a breath in and dares to sneak a peek. Robin's gaze is waiting for him. He freezes. Although glimmering with tears, still her eyes are steelier than he's ever seen them. _Go,_ she mouths. _Go now. We're not talking about this._

She turns her attention to her children (and oh, he can see that they are _hers)_ and does not acknowledge him again, though he remains for a moment longer.

What else can he do but go?


	2. Chapter 2

_...and perhaps I am in love with him._

 _But what of it? He chose another, and another chose him. They are happy. In a way, I am happy for them._

 _And that is the end of that, I think._

 _I have no prospects of my own. But somehow, Morgan came to me anyways. My beautiful son from another world- it's strange, how fiercely I love him. Every part of him. How I have come to adore those afternoons spent devising strategies together, minds meeting and clashing and agreeing on the myriad points and thoughts bent on military structure and attack plans. How wonderful and hilarious and awe-inducing it is that I the unlovely, I the ungraceful, would have_ family _to begin traditions with. If it were mine to protect a boy who is nearly a man, I'd do so until the end of my days._

 _My Morgan. You shine like the sun._

 _From your hair to your toes (delicate things), you are nearly my mirror image. How easily we might be mistaken for siblings! Twins, even! I find myself continually enthralled by this; as fascinated by you as you are by me._

 _I love you. My dearest, my son, my friend- ever does my gratitude spring anew in your presence._

 _So it is with an uncertain heart that I write my last suspicion: you are, in all likelihood,_ his _son. I've tried not to think about this too much. The prospect is too overwhelming to bear. My mind has taken leave of my conscious desires, however._

 _It's in the little things- the things you don't notice save for some flash of insight. Sully's good at that, in all actuality. She's been giving me certain looks recently. All of them are some variation of "I know something you refuse to know". I would say they've been getting grating, but for all that this has been on my mind recently, she's beginning to be wrong and that makes things a little easier to bear._

 _You have his walk. Funny, for such a blithe spirit. It's the way a commander should walk: powerfully, confidently, but not so blatant that you are a target for any and every assassin worth a half a bag of salt. I must've taught you that. Sometimes he swaggers, although any man will be tempted to at times. You set your jaw the same way when you concentrate; you have a grin for Kjelle the way he used to... for..._

 _Well._

 _I should've acknowledged it sooner. The flip side is that not doing so may have been the most tactical decision I've ever made: without acknowledgement, not a soul will voice any such suspicions. No such thing will ever make its way to his ears. Ylisse will not be forced into a political predicament, if it will be forced into anything. You are free to live in any way you wish._

 _I can take this thought with me to Grima's grave. I am so terribly tired for a mere six years of memories, love. It's selfish, and I know it, but... soon, I will rest. For a very long time. Such a small, small plus to an act that will seem so terrible to too many dear souls. After long talks with Tiki, such a perspective seems so limited now. We mortals view the world through a looking-glass, like everything in it is meant to be grasped with the human hand. Fate bears no part in the workings of our lives, but our actions still have consequences for ourselves and for the rest of our existences._

 _One life for an entire universe, Morgan. You won't understand now._

 _But one day, you will._

It was dated the afternoon before that night. Chrom stared down at the open page, and the blank one next to it. Numbness dulled his senses. The only thing he was truly capable of right now was rereading that last sentence. Someone had apparently seen him stumble into the lone tent with the small green flag amid a sea of blue ribbons, and so alerted the camp to leave him to his grief. Even his wife, whom he knew for a fact to be gathering up all the old novels she'd lent to Robin and gotten back with annotations. In the back of his mind, it was a somewhat appreciated gesture. The larger part of him was consumed by the early stages of mourning.

Robin was gone. And he had never realized, not once, that she had- loved him.

"Oh," said a voice from above. He looked up into eyes just like his own. Morgan seemed vaguely shocked that sound had come from his mouth at all, and looked down dully at the floor.

"We need to talk," Chrom whispered, hoarse.


End file.
